


called your name 'till the fever broke

by Ylixia



Category: Life Is Strange 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Daniel Diaz is a BRAT and Sean loves him for it, Gap Filler, Gen, Life is Strange 2 Episode 2, Respiratory Distress, Sickfic, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23181214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ylixia/pseuds/Ylixia
Summary: They'd jinxed themselves when they said that Daniel was looking better
Relationships: Daniel Diaz & Sean Diaz
Comments: 9
Kudos: 45





	called your name 'till the fever broke

**Author's Note:**

> A call was sent out for sickfic and I, a humble servant, have delivered to the best of my ability. This is an expansion of Daniel's episode 2 illness where canon dialogue has been chopped up, expanded, and rearranged as suits me personally. I began writing this before current events, uh, started getting really dire, at least in my country, but I hope it will still comfort at least a few in this time of strife.
> 
> I will ask one directs one attention to the "Respiratory Distress" tag; it is significant, it gets better, but that seems like it could be a particularly touchy subject at the moment and I want you all to take care of yourselves first and foremost.
> 
> Enjoy!

The Reynolds house is just as Sean remembers it, so spotless and bright he feels like he’s going to dirty it up just by his presence. The dining room alone looks like it comes out of a magazine, complemented with tasteful, perfectly placed Christmas decorations. They even have a special cabinet for fancy dishes the probably never use. Sean remembers having an okay time when he came here as a kid, but he doesn’t think he was old enough to notice if he was as out of place back then as he feels right now. He wonders how his dad felt when he came here. Considering he never came back, Sean thinks he can make a few guesses. 

His impulse at the front door to try to straighten himself and Daniel up so they looked less like a couple of grimy homeless kids really was a lost cause. They look _rough_ , and even though he’s tried his best his inability to properly keep up with their hygiene sends shame burning in his throat. And it’s certainly not impressed Claire and Stephen, which could end up really biting them in the ass. 

Claire Reynolds had seemed surprisingly happy to see them darkening her doorstep at first, but her attitude had cooled rapidly. The look she’d given Sean as he tried to follow her and Daniel upstairs made him feel about two feet tall. “I think we’ve got it from here,” she’d says with just the slightest edge to her voice. “How about you take a seat in the dining room? Stephen will make you some tea while you wait.”

So here he is, waiting, Stephen sitting in the farthest possible chair across from him shooting him nervous looks. Keeping an eye on him, maybe, leaving him to stew in his own thoughts. _You know he’s sick, right?_ Claire’d said, judgment souring her tone. _You know I wouldn’t have come here if he wasn’t, right?_ He’d wanted to to tell her. God, maybe this was a mistake. But what other choice he could possibly make? What if Daniel got worse, like bronchitis or pneumonia or something? It’s not like Sean can take him to a hospital. And wow, that makes him feel like shit, denying his little brother medical care just because he doesn’t want to get arrested. Yeah there’s Daniel’s powers to consider and how they are definitely involved in how that cop ended up dead, but that sounds more and more like an excuse the worse Daniel’s cough gets. Like, he’s gotten some practice in now, right? He could hide it if he really needed to, couldn’t he?

But it’s still a risk, and it’s one Sean’s not willing to take right now; that incident in the shelter really freaked the both of them out, and if they took Sean into custody while Daniel was alone in the hospital? Foster care might be the least of their problems. So selfish reasons or no they are avoiding going to the hospital as long as they possibly can. It’s not off the table but… they need to exhaust their other options first. And one of those options is Karen’s parents.

Stephen asks him if his tea is alright, looking more awkward than than suspicious, which Sean supposes is something. He’s so hungry his stomach feels like a monster trying to chew its way out of his body, but he’s to anxious to even sip the tea; he just clutches it and tries to absorb as much warmth as he can. He hasn’t eaten much over the last few days; their food supply is limited and he’s been giving most of it to Daniel, hoping to keep his strength up to get healthy. Just getting here took basically all they had, and Sean doesn’t know what he’s going to do if they kick him out, or set the cops on him. Daniel is young enough that they might want to keep him and just send Sean to his fate, and he really doesn’t know what he’s going to do if they decide to keep him. Faint on them? He feels so weak and shaky. 

Maybe it wont come to that. They’re family after all. They might not look like it, and it might not have mean much to Karen, but maybe Claire and Stephen are different. Sean has to hope they’re different

“I gave Daniel some cough medicine,” Claire announces as she comes back from running Daniel a bath. “But you should have taken better care of him. It could have been worse; you were lucky.”

Sean’s hands clench and he swallows to keep from saying something he’ll regret, equal parts outraged and deeply shamed. He forces himself to calm under her scrutiny. He came to them for help, he’s at their mercy and he has to play by their rules. 

When she pulls Stephen to the next room talk about him. Sean doesn’t feel too bad about eavesdropping — they’re talking about _him_ — but what he hears makes him feel kind of sick. Maybe he is guilty, maybe they should call the cops, what if they let a dangerous criminal sleep under their roof… fuck. He has never felt so much like a thug in his life. He’s never had to face this kind of suspicion before; His friends' families always seemed to like him, and he’d never gotten in any real trouble in school. He was too focused on track to be really into drugs or let his grades slip too badly, and as much as he complained sometimes he always made sure to help his dad with Daniel— Shit. It makes his head spin to think how quickly he’s turned from an awkward, goofy teenager to some dangerous… thing. He can’t really get his head around it, because underneath all the worry and the stress and anxiety of the past few months he doesn’t feel any different than the kid a few months ago who was obsessing about a crush and worrying about homework. Has he changed when he wasn’t paying attention, or has the line always been this thin? Have people always looked at him like this, like at any moment he’d snap and the mask would come off and he’d be just another violent criminal, another statistic to prove that they were right to be hateful and suspicious of people who look like him?

Would that cop have been so jumpy if he and his brother looked more white?

He will drive himself crazy thinking about it, so he tries not to, pushes the thought down so he can concentrate on projecting the image of the nice middle-class suburban boy he is, underneath the scruff and the dirt and the worn-out clothing. If he's polite enough and harmless-looking enough, he figures, maybe they wont call the cops on him and he'll be able to get some rest. He thinks he’s doing an okay job, but when Claire askes "If you were innocent, then why did you run?" he nearly screams.

Actually, he might still scream. His willpower is hanging on by a thread and he will fucking lose it if he doesn’t get it together right fucking now and stop thinking about that hillbilly at the gas station hitting him and tying him up and terrorizing his little brother, telling him that if he wasn't guilty he shouldn't have acted like it. How? How? What's the magical not-guilty way to act when he's so stressed out and anxious and overwhelmed he feels like he can’t breath? What is the appropriate way to act merely in over his head and fucking drowning so that people would leave him the fuck alone, what hoops does he jump through, what is the secret handshake, what are the wand movements, anything, he would really like to know!

"Dad was innocent!" Sean blurts out, and curses himself internally. He has to be calm, he has to be polite, no one will want to listen if he raises his voice. His leg bounces under the table and he rubs his shaking hands over his mouth and tries to summon the spirit of Sean Eduardo Diaz, nice boy with okay grades, solid but unimpressive member of the track team, to get him through this conversation where it is really very, life or death imperative that he act _extremely normal_. But there’s some impulse, some need to explain himself pushing up the back of his throat and he can't not say this, everything is so incredibly fucked and he needs them to _understand_. "He was standing in his own front lawn and a man was pointing a gun at his kids and then boom! He was gone! Just f— just g-gone and it happened so fast, it just happened so fast and it still doesn’t feel real sometimes because how could they, y’know, how could he just sh-shoot my dad, how--"

"Sean," Claire says sympathetically, reaching out to put a hand on his. He pulls away and covers his face with his hands, his emotions spilling out way past what he can handle. He has to stop talking and get a grip. He has to convince these people he’s a calm and rational person, someone too together and reasonable to be a threat or a liar, and he is screwing it up so fucking hard. It's a good thing he doesn't have Daniel's powers, he'd probably wreck the whole house and then they'd really be screwed.

"I was so scared," he says, voice breaking. "I'm just so scared Grandma." He didn't mean to say that, and he doesn't mean to let the sobs he was holding in come spilling out, but he did and he does. Fuck.

"Oh, Sean," Claire breaths, getting up and coming around the table to give him a hug. It's nice. It's really nice and he kind of wants to give in to the impulse to have a breakdown, but he feels so ragged and gross after days of walking and having this nice clean lady in her nice clean house touch him makes him feel every speck of dirt on his skin. So he pulls himself together as best as he can and hopes they don’t see his outburst as a pathetic show of weakness, or an attempt to manipulate them. Sean gives her a watery smile when she pulls away and reminds himself that he’s the big brother, he’s the grownup now and he has to be stronger than this.

When Claire sits back down and they discuss Daniel and him and their plans, Sean plays it pretty close to the vest, at least for now. He doesn't want them to tip off the cops if they decide they don’t want to harbor a couple of fugitives in their retirement, actually, and he accepts Claire's lecture about responsibility with as good grace as he can manage.

When Stephan declares that they can stay -- and that surprises Sean, based on his earlier eavesdropping -- Daniel comes tumbling into the room like a beam of sunshine, looking so cute in a set of blue princess pajamas that Sean feels like his heart is going to burst. The little brat was so obviously snooping from the stairs Sean kind of wants to laugh, but he's so relieved that his brother has somewhere warm and safe to recover he feels like he might collapse on the spot. He's still not quite sure if he can trust Claire and Stephen or if he's really going to be able to get him and Daniel down to Mexico, but he will do everything and anything he has to to take care of his brother. The rest is just details.

—

The details suck. They’d fucking jinxed themselves saying how much better Daniel looked because he wakes Sean up in the middle of the night sounding like he’s about to hack up a lung, coughing so much he can barely get a breath in edgewise, eyes wide and teary as he starts to work himself up into a panic. Sean determinedly doesn’t let any of his own panic show as he sits up and scoops Daniel into his lap, settling him against his chest.

"I ca-- S-sean I _can't_ \--"

“It’s alright enano, it’s alright. Just breath, it’ll pass.”

“I ca- I can’t!” Daniel whimpers between vicious sounding coughs. He keeps trying to take big gulps of air, which triggers a round of coughing, which freaks him out more when he can’t get a breath. Its a vicious cycle that has him hacking and making these terrifying wheezing noises, his eyes wide and fearful as he stares up at Sean.

“Shhhhh, shhshhshhhh,” Sean hushes, rocking him back and forth, rubbing at his chest a little. He feels so warm, his face flushed and his skin hot and dry when Sean puts his hand over his forehead. “You’re okay, it’s gonna be okay bud. I’m here. I’m right here.”

Daniel clutches at Sean’s arm and visibly tries to calm himself, but the coughing continues and what little breath he can suck into his lungs comes in on a wheeze. Tears gather at the corners of his eyes and he cranes his head to look pleadingly at Sean, “I can’t I can’t I ca- I can’t breathe! I cant — breathe Sean help — help! _Please_!”

“Okay, enano, okay, I’ve got you,”Sean says, whipping the comforter back and gathering Daniel in his arms to whisk him out of the bedroom. Daniel wraps his little arms around Sean’s neck and gasps and coughs in his ear. It would be gross if Sean wasn't starting to get a little freaked out himself. 

When Sean was little he used to have respiratory problems. Not asthma, or at least he never had an inhaler or anything, just sometimes when he was sick or his allergies were bad his throat would feel like it sealed shut and he’d be screaming for his dad in a panic that he couldn’t breathe. It almost always used to happen at night, and his dad would bring him to the bathroom and turn the hot water on as high as possible and sit with him until the steam soothed his throat and he could calm down.

He hopes Claire and Stephen were heavy sleepers, but the bathroom is right next to their room and they’d probably have to be dead not to hear Daniel’s wheezing terror. Oh well, he doesn’t have enough room in his head to give a shit about them right now. He starts the shower as hot as possible and turns on the sink faucet for good measure, steam filling the little room quickly. Daniel is not the least bit soothed.

“Sean I cant— I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t _breathe_ —” Daniel says frantically, working himself up into another coughing fit, his hands clutching the front of Sean’s shirt desperately. Sean sits on top of the toilet seat and tries to settle Daniel back in his lap but he’s squirming and flailing to much as he struggles to drag breath into his wheezing lungs.

“It’s alright buddy, it’s alright, the steam will help just give it a chance,” he says, trying to keep his tone even and soothing, not letting his own fear into his voice as he rubs Daniel’s back. 

Sean remembers how terrifying it was to go through this when he was a little kid, how much he’d freaked out when his body just refused to listen to him and take in enough air, how it seemed like it would never end and he’d just suffer forever and ever until he died. But that whole time he’d had Dad, who’d been so calm and strong, who’d always known exactly what to do and how to help, who’d rub medicine on his chest and sing to him softly in spanish until he calmed down. It was usually the same song, he thinks, but Sean doesn’t know the words anymore; he can’t even recall the tune. 

Another thing lost, he supposes. He hadn’t even known to miss it until now.

Claire left the cough medicine on the sink counter, but Daniel is struggling and yelling in his arms and the thought of trying to convince him to take it when he’s like this is just overwhelming. Sean makes vague, soothing noises and feels tears start to pick at the corners of his eyes. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that Dad isn’t here to help, it’s not fair that Daniel is stuck with his stupid teenage brother instead of their dad, that he’ll never know what it’s like to be taken care of by the strongest, kindest most perfect dad in the world, who would never let anything like a stupid chest cold hurt him. Its not fair that he got to grow up feeling safe and loved and all Daniel has is a stupid kid dragging him through the woods in the middle of winter, trying and failing to live up to a smarter, wiser, man who should be here instead.

“Relax, enano, shhh, let the steam work. You’ll be okay if you just calm down, okay? Look , let me give you a little more medicine.”

“No!” Daniel shouts, tears rolling down his face, breathing sounding more atrocious by the second. Sean ducks his head on instinct as a shampoo bottle goes soaring past his ear. “I don’t — I don’t want—”

“Shit,” Sean says under his breath, trying keep a hold of Daniel and lean over to lock the door, but Daniel is struggling and pushing away from him and they both end up on the floor. He manages to lock the door but Daniel keeps shoving him away and more and more shit is floating around. “C’mon, enano, let me help.”

“No! Go away!” Daniel screams, louder this time, his voice sounding scrapped and raw. It uses up what little breath he’s got, and while he gasps for air his hands grip Sean’s arms hovering on either side of him. “I don’t want you! I want Dad! I don’t want you I want, I want Dad I, want Dad I want Dad I want Dad—”

“Boys?” a knock at the door and shit, yep, this was inevitable. “What on earth is going on in there?”

“Sorry, one second!” Sean calls over his shoulder. Shit is flying all over the damn bathroom and Daniel is teary-eyed and hysterical. Claire calls something else but Sean decides he has way too fucking much to deal with at the moment and just tunes her out. He wraps his hands around Daniel's arms and tries to stroke them soothingly as Daniel punches and scrapes at his chest and screams for their father. Sean wants to wrap his arms around him like he did when he was freaking like this in the motel room, but he's worried about holding him too tightly and putting more pressure on his chest when he's already struggling to breath. He also really doesn't want him to wreck Claire and Stephan's house the first night they're here.

But all Sean can do is ride it out, watching helplessly as Daniel has a complete meltdown and all he can do murmur soothing words, Claire getting more and more agitated on the other side of the door. It's fucking horrible. Daniel's scared and Sean can't stop it, he's probably only sick because he's cold all the time and his diet is crap, which is Sean’s fault. All of this is Sean's fault and he can't do anything except hold his brother as much as he'll let him and listen as Daniel rages and cries and throws accusations that slice into his chest like razorblades. Sean can’t reach him, just has to ride the storm out until Daniel exhausts himself and is reduced to just siting and gasping for breath.

“I want Dad,” Daniel whimpers, wide-eyed and shaking. His face is a mess, red and splotchy and covered with tears. His breath whistles in his throat and there’s not even enough left in him to panic; he just sits and wheezes in the the hot, steamed air, letting Sean prop him up by the grip on his shoulders.

“I know bud,” Sean says, voice breaking. “Me too.”

“Sean! Unlock this door _now_ please. What is happening? Do we need to take him to the hospital?”

“No, we’re fine, just a minute!” Sean curls a hand around the back of Daniels neck and presses their foreheads together. “Come on, Daniel, breath with me.”

“I can’t,” Daniel sobs.

“Yes you can, we just have to be slow, okay? Slow and calm. Now in,” Sean takes a deep, slow breath, listening as Daniel struggles to copy him. It sounds awful, but Sean remembers that from when he got sick and tries not to let it bother him. It’ll be easier to handle once Daniel calms down, just like it was for him, he just needs to focus on breathing. Daniel grips his wrist with one hand and the front of his shirt with the other, exhaling slowly as Sean rubs his back. “Yeah, that’s good, that’s so good Daniel. Lets do that again, okay? In—”

Sean ignores Claire’s increasingly insistent knocking as Daniel calms and he’s able to take steady, if somewhat labored breaths. The bathroom looks like it was hit by a small tornado, bottles and towels scattered everywhere, but fortunately nothing looks broken. He hopes the lights and shit weren’t flickering while Daniel was in full-on panic mode — he was too focused on his brother to notice.

“She wants... to come in,” Daniel wheezes, as if Sean could have missed that.

“Shhh, breathe.”

“We should… she’ll be mad…”

“Breathe, I said. Don’t worry about it, I have to pick up in here first.” Daniel nods and matches his inhales and exhales, sounding like maybe his breath is coming a little easier now. Sean starts to relax when another, harder knock comes at the door.

“Boys,” comes Stephen’s stern voice. “I’m going to need you to open the door.”

“Yeah, just a minute!” Sean calls, starting to pull away only to be stopped by Daniel’s iron tight grip and distressed noise of dissent. “Dude, come on, I have to clean up in here before they totally freak.”

“I can do it.”

Sean sighs. “Daniel, you shouldn’t—”

“Not ‘just a minute,’ _now_ Sean!”

“I can _do_ it!” Daniel insists, pushing Sean to sit back against the bathtub so he can crawl in his lap, back to Sean’s chest. His breathing gets a little rougher and Sean just goes where Daniel puts him, not willing to fight him into another attack.

“Alright, fine, just keep breathing with me.”

Daniel’s brow furrows as he concentrates, and Sean focuses on keeping his breathing deep and steady. Daniel's control isn’t as smooth as its gotten over the past couple months, but everything more or less gets put back into its place. Or a place, at least; it looks somewhat more cluttered in a way Sean can’t quite put his finger on, but it’ll have to be good enough. Daniel seems calmed by the use of his power and by the time he twists his wrist to unlock the bathroom door he’s breathing steadily, if loudly. His eyes close as he thunks his head back against Sean’s shoulder, and Sean just focuses on taking deep, slow breaths as Claire and Stephen burst into the bathroom.

“Sean, what the hell was that about?”

“Stephen!”

“Well, Claire, I think it’s a fair question when they’re making a racket in the middle of the night and locking doors in our own house!”

“Sorry,” Sean says lowly. “I didn’t want to let the steam out.”

“That is no excuse—”

“I’m sorry Grandpa, I couldn’t breathe.” Daniel says in a small, raspy voice. His head is currently tucked under Sean’s chin but he can picture that big teary-eyed look with perfect clarity; Daniel had mastered the art of weaponized cuteness by the time he was five years old. “Sean was helping.”

“Trying, anyway,” Sean says ruefully, feeling exhausted. “I’m sorry for waking you guys up. He was just really scared and I remember that steam used to help when I got like this when I was little.”

"You should have given him more medicine instead of giving us a heart attack in the middle of the night! I left it out for a reason, you know?"

Spoken like a woman who had never once tried to get Daniel Felipe Diaz in full meltdown mode to do anything, at all, ever. It's easy to let go of his irritation though when Daniel is resting calmly against him, breathing labored but steadily along with him.

"Sorry, I didn't see it."

"How could you not see it, it's right here, I-- What? I left it right here on the sink. Good lord! Stephen, did you rearrange the bathroom?"

"Now, why would I do a thing like that?"

"Everything is all out of place, and I'm certain I left the cough syrup out for Daniel!"

"Sorry," Daniel whispers so that only Sean can hear, and Sean hushes him and rubs his arm as Claire and Stephen start bickering over their heads.

He’s so tired. He knows he should probably do damage control right now. He’s definitely going to freak out about this tomorrow; they _need_ Claire and Stephen on their side, at least until Daniel is healthy again. He just can’t attach that fact to an emotion right now. He can feel Daniel’s fucked up airways as if they live in his own chest and his own desperate relief at having him calm and close, but everything else is so muted it might as well not exist.

“And what is all of this about,” Claire demands in the tone of someone wrapping up a rant that Sean hasn’t heard a word of, shutting of the bathroom faucet with finality.

“It’s what Dad would—” Sean’s throat closes and he swallows, trying to get himself together. “Dad did this. When I was sick. It helped.”

Claire’s expression melts as she seems to take in the sight they make for the first time, curled up on her floor exhausted and wrung out.

“Oh, you boys. This is exactly what I was saying Sean about needing to take better care of him. What do you think would have happened if Daniel had this… attack while you were out gallivanting in the woods?”

Sean blinks rapidly and takes a deep, shaky breath because yeah, that’s exactly what he’d been thinking. Daniel curls one of his small hands in Sean’s.

“Sean takes… good care of me,” he rasps, and Sean’s eyes blur and presses a kiss into Daniel’s hair. Even Stephen’s expression softens as he looks at the two of them, and he quietly steps back from the doorway, apparently content to leave his wife to deal with them.

“Of course he does sweetheart,” Claire says. “Lets take your temperature, okay?”

While Daniel is holding the thermometer under his tongue, Claire gives _Sean_ a tender look and and strokes his hair and Sean squeezes his eyes shut tight and leans into the touch. He’s so tired and he’s leaking emotions absolutely everywhere. Stupid emotions.

“A little high, but that’s to be expected; fevers tend to spike at night,” Claire says once the thermometer beeps. “We’ll give him more medicine and take him back to bed as soon as he’s feeling better enough to sleep, okay?”

“Okay,” Sean and Daniel say together.

“Do you want me to stay up with you for a while?”

Daniel shrugs and Sean shakes his head. “It’s okay, I think we’ve got it from here. Thanks Claire.”

“Of course,” she leans forward and kisses them both on the forehead. “Goodnight boys.”

“’Night Grandma.”

“Goodnight.”

They sit on the bathroom floor for maybe another ten minutes while the medicine kicks in, Daniel all but falling asleep in his lap as his breathing slowly gets a little easier. He doesn’t exactly sound great by the time Sean shuts off the shower and scoops him up but he doesn’t sound distressed as they step into the cooler air of the hallway on the way to the bedroom.

“We’re going to sleep sitting up, okay enano? It’s better for your chest.” Sean tells him, getting barely a grunt in response. He pushes their pillows up against the wall and leans against them, settling Daniel back against his chest and the kid barely stirs as his noisy breaths deepen and he drops almost immediately to sleep.

He’s okay. He’s sick now but he’s always been a healthy kid. He’ll bounce back in a day or two and be his normal bratty self. Sean hasn’t fucked up too badly yet. His brother will pull through, and in the mean time they have a little breathing room to figure out what they’re going to do next. It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.

Sean tells himself that over and over again until he drifts off into sleep himself.

—

Sean wakes to a crick in his neck and Daniel's loud snores. His head is tipped back against Sean's shoulder and his mouth is wide open, which is probably why he sounds like a very small mack truck. His breathing seems fine otherwise though, and his forehead doesn't feel particularly warm. Not that Sean's some kind of fever expert or anything.

He realizes with some trepidation that he's starving, and if he wants to get food he’s going to have to go downstairs. He would have thought that after eating so much during yesterday's late night dinner that he'd have enough to sustain him for a while, but no dice. He really doesn’t want to face how badly he botched first impressions last night. Fuck. They said he and Daniel could stay, but what if they changed their mind? Obviously they’re a lot of extra trouble even without considering the fact that they’re fugitives from the law. Sean clearly can’t handle the smallest problem without a whole lot of drama, what if he goes downstairs and they tell him to pack his shit and get out, that he’s obviously not fit to take care of a kid and that he should leave before he messes him up more? 

Sean gently rolls Daniel off of him and onto the pillows and runs his hands through his hair as he tries to get his thoughts under control. Probably they wont ask him to leave yet, if they let him stay in the first place, so he’ll have time to prove that last night was an anomaly, that he’s a stable and responsible guy like, ninety percent of the time and they definitely don’t have to worry about him ruining their cozy little life. Part of that is going to be going down to breakfast and acting normal and apologizing for disrupting them. That he kind of never wants to them to look at or notice him ever again is just too bad. He considers waiting for Daniel to wake up and letting him be a buffer between Sean and Claire and Stephen, since they obviously like him better, but in the end hunger and pride win out. Sean’s a grownup now, he cant go around hiding behind his sick little brother. So he gets out of bed, pulls some pants on, and quietly lets himself out of their room.

The Reynolds house looks a lot less intimidating in the light of day. It’s still a _nice_ house, tidy and lovingly decorated, but not quite the pristine dollhouse perfection that existed in his anxious mind in the middle of the night. The stairs creak under his feet, there are a few stray dings and scratches in the walls and banisters, and everything is bright and has a smooth, well loved feel. It’s cozy.

“Ah, Sean!” Claire says, coming around the corner with a book in hand as Sean reaches the bottom of the stairs. “You’re up earlier than I expected.”

“Yeah, Daniel’s snoring loud enough to wake the dead,” Sean says with a grin.

“Well come on, I’ll make you breakfast,” Claire says, putting a bookmark in her book and settling it down.

The kitchen like the rest of the house is big but like, a normal amount, clean and tidy and well-used. Sean sits at the counter, and that feels familiar and normal and oddly surreal at the same time. He and Daniel and Dad had shared almost every meal together sitting at their kitchen counter, as their dining room table was usually covered in papers and sketches and homework. He wishes he remembered what was on that table last, what projects they had started and left abandoned there, never to be picked back up again. It’s such a stupid, insignificant non-mystery, but Sean will never be able to solve it now. What even happened to their old house? Did the police stomp through it, tearing it apart? Did they tear through his room, looking for evidence to retcon him into a criminal? Daniel’s? Did they throw everything away or lock it in an evidence locker somewhere, so the bank could take it back and resell it and make money off their tragedy? Shit, this isn’t helping anybody. Sean scrubs his hands over his face and pulls himself back to the present.

“Uh. Sorry again for waking you guys up last night,” Sean says.

“Oh it’s far from my first time being woken up in the middle of the night with a sick child,” Claire says, stacking eggs and all the fixings by the stove. “And it wasn’t even for that long; I was able to go right back to sleep after. You did well with him.”

Sean ducks his head. “Thanks.”

“But honestly, Sean, he shouldn’t have gotten that bad in the first place. What did you think was going to happen, running around in the woods in the middle of winter? Yes, he told me about that cabin of yours; no heat, no running water, and if the owners had come back you would have been in even bigger trouble than when you started! Did you have any plan at all?”

Sean clenches his hands together and rubs them across his mouth. “We didn’t have a lot of options,” he says evenly.

“Well, I suppose there weren’t many after running from the police like you did. I still don’t understand what possessed you to do that. Surely if you had stayed and explained —”

“I couldn’t.”

Claire looks at him sharply. “Yes you could have. If you really had nothing to do with that police officer dying, there’s no reason why you would have been in any trouble. Sean,” she sighs. “I’m just very worried about you boys. You have such a bright future, you and Daniel, and it would be such a terrible tragedy if you threw it away based on a misunderstanding.”

Sean has so many things to say to that he thinks he might choke on them, but he has one goal right now and that’s to get Daniel healthy and keep the two of them together. He knows Claire genuinely cares about Daniel (who wouldn’t?) and he thinks she cares about him too, but if she gets it into her head that calling the cops would be ‘for their own good’ they’re gonna be fucked. He at least has to hold her off for a couple of days, until Daniel’s better and he can figure out a next move. He just has to figure out what to tell her because from a certain angle her reasoning makes sense, and the most convincing argument against it is the one he’s least willing to reveal.

The fact that Daniel killed that cop after he shot their dad is obvious, even though neither he nor Sean has mentioned it out loud. Sean isn’t even sure if Daniel’s made that connection yet, but he’s a smart kid and there’s no sense dredging it up and implying that Sean in any way blames him for their current circumstances because he never did for one second, and he never will. But Sean definitely in no way wants the authorities to make that connection, because one way or another once they figure it out they will never let him go. And maybe Sean is being paranoid and maybe he’s watched too many action movies, but he does not trust the government not to disappear Daniel the minute they find out he has superpowers, especially with a dead cop as “proof” that he’s dangerous and needs to be taken away from ‘normal people’ for his own safety. Fuck that.

Sean can’t say any of that to Claire, but he has to give her something. Just to hold her off, just for now. So he cobbles together something that sounds at least halfway convincing. It’s even the truth, or at least part of it, stuff they’ve probably even already seen in the news.

“I couldn’t explain because I don’t know what really happened, you know?” he says quietly. “I saw Dad get sh-shot, and then there was this like, explosion? I don’t know, it was really fast and I don’t, I don’t remember everything super clearly. But it knocked me out and when I woke up the whole — everything was just a wreck, like a bomb had hit it, except nothing looked burned? I don’t think? But what do I know about bombs? And like, what if there was another one, or if the people who set it came back or — or I don’t know, nothing was really making sense. I just knew that it wasn’t safe there, and I had to get Daniel away. That’s all I knew and I just. Reacted.”

Claire’s brow furrows as she focuses on what she’s doing over the stove. “A bomb? That… seems a little farfetched, Sean.”

“Trust me, I know! But the police car was flipped over and a fire hydrant was knocked loose and spraying water everywhere and it looked like a war zone. I was… _so_ freaked out. And what if they didn’t believe me that I didn’t know? Its not like I have any kind of explanation. What would happen to Daniel? I just, I can’t leave him alone after that. Not with dad — I just can’t.”

“Oh, honey,” Claire says, putting her spatula down so she can walk over and take Sean’s face in both hands, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I understand you’re scared, but the police are there to protect you. They’re not going to just punish you without proof, no matter what a bunch of angry people on the internet say.”

“Claire, no offense,” Sean says, because he guesses he’s going to have to say this out loud. “But I don’t… really have a lot of trust in the judgment of police officers right now.”

Claire looks for one second like she’s going to say something to this, then she deflates and nods, stroking his cheeks with both thumbs before turning back to the stove. “I’ve known some excellent police officers in my time, you know. But… I’ve also heard some stories. I suppose I can’t blame you for being cautious when you have family to protect.”

Sean exhales in relief, propping his head up on his folded hands as he steadies himself. The kitchen is silent for a while as Claire finishes up the omelet, a big one with plenty of cheese, and puts it on a plate and sets it in front of Sean. “Thanks,” he says earnestly “Are… aren’t you going to eat?”

“Oh, I ate earlier; it’s almost eleven you know!” Sean didn’t; he’d gotten out of habit of checking the time with the lack of devices and the way all the days had seemed to bleed into one another, back at the Cabin. Claire sits across the counter from him and folds her arms, head bowed with a thoughtful look on her face. Warily, Sean begins eating.

“Sean,” she says finally. “I am so, so sorry about your father. I know that’s not enough but, I truly am. So is Stephen. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like for you boys.”

Sean’s eyes prickle and he ducks his head. He can’t get any words out past the lump in his throat so he just nods and shovels more eggs in his face.

“I understand being scared and just reacting to the immediate threat, and I certainly can’t fault you for that. But there comes a time when you need to stop reacting and start _planning_ , and that time needs to come sooner rather than later. Daniel’s only nine; he needs to go back to school at some point, and so do you. And stability is so important for a child his age. Eventually you’re going to have to stop running.”

Sean twirls his fork in his hand. “Dad has a house, in his old hometown. It would be pretty easy for us to get citizenship. Daniel’s forgotten most of his Spanish but he’ll be able to pick it back up pretty quickly, and no one would bother us there. We could start over.”

“So you’d be fugitives? Flee to a country your father left for good reason? Do you think your father would want that?”

“My father would want to be alive! He’d want to raise his sons in his own house and watch them grow up!” Sean snaps. He takes a deep breath. “But if he couldn’t have that, he’d want us to take care of each other. So that’s what I intend to do.”

“You don’t have to do it alone, you know that, right?”

Sean gives her a wane smile, but doesn’t answer. Claire smiles back sadly.

“The most important thing to Stephen and I is that you’re safe,” she says. “I understand why you don’t trust the authorities right now and we respect that. We’re here for you both, Sean. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

“Thank you,” Sean chokes, covering his face with his hands. “Thank you so much Claire, I don’t—”

“Hush, we’re family. Of course we’ll help you. Once Daniel is feeling better we’ll go over some more ground rules in detail, but in the meantime; no phone, no internet, no leaving the property. Understood?”

Sean nods gratefully. “Yeah, yes of course. We can do that no problem.”

“Good. Now, I’m going to make some toast for Daniel, see if he’ll eat it when he wakes up.” She gets up and gives him a conspiratorial little wink. “Usually the rule is no food outside the kitchen and the dining room, but I think we can make an exception just this once. We’ll just make sure to change the sheets and vacuum up any crumbs.”

—

Daniel is awake when Sean comes up with a plate of toast and orange juice, but only barely. He lifts his head up when Sean walks in and makes a pathetic noise as he flops back down. “Where did you go?”

“Breakfast, sicky,” Sean says, putting the plate and glass on the side table and sitting on the bed next to him. “How are you feeling?” he asks, stroking Daniel’s hair.

“Like shit,” Daniel mumbles. He shifts over to press his face into Sean’s hip. “I didn’t know where you were.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you; you need your rest. How’s your chest feel? Breathing okay?”

“M’fine.”

“Okay, we’ll take your temperature in a little bit. How about you eat some breakfast first?”

“M’not hungry.”

“Try? Please?”

“Uuggh,” Daniel grumbles, but he drags himself upright and Sean arranges the pillows behind him so he can sit up more comfortably. “I hate being sick.”

“Yeah, most people do.” Sean smiles as Daniel takes an aggressive bite of toast and makes a face as he chews and swallows. It’s so good to see him eating something that doesn’t come from a can, even if he’s no more enthusiastic about it. He hopes Claire and Stephen really can help them, if only so Sean never again has to feed him too little food he hates, and then he carefully tucks the thought away. Whatever happens he’ll deal with it, whether he wants to or not. “Hey, look what I found downstairs.”

Daniel leans over and looks at the book in Sean’s hand. “’The Hobbit’? Like Lord of the Rings?”

“Yep, this one came first; it’s how Bilbo got the ring.”

“Cool!” Daniel says brightly. “Read it to me?”

“After you finish your breakfast.”

“Ugh, _fine_.” 

Sean watches him eat for a little while, stroking his back, and thinks about what’s to come. He finds himself missing their little abandoned cabin in the woods, little Mushroom running around. It was cold, but with the snow blanketing everything it was so beautiful. And peaceful, like a little pocket dimension where the rest of the world didn’t exist. He misses other things too, but they hurt too much to think about. Easier instead to think about their little snow globe cabin, shattered by the loss of poor little Mushroom. It’s easier to think about that loss than all the other horrible shit from the past couple months.

But they can’t go back. If Sean’s learned anything, it’s that. It’s tempting to think they might be able to stay here with Claire and Stephen in this nice heated house with all the food they could eat, but he knows it can’t be more than a stopgap; the police are still looking for them, Daniel’s power can still be unpredictable, and they can’t really live while they’re here; only hide. But it’s such a long way to Mexico, and they’ll need money Sean has no idea how they’re going to get. Its tempting to pretend for a little while that they’re here to stay.

“You still hungry?” Sean asks when Daniel finishes his toast. He shakes his head.

“Can you read to me now?”

“Absolutely.” Sean scoots back to sit against the wall and Daniel grabs his arm to drape it around his shoulders, and they settle in for the morning to read.

Sean nearly expects Daniel to drop off back to sleep, but he sits and listens attentively, asking questions and offering commentary as it occurs to him. It’s really nice, after the scare from last night, to be warm and calm and reading a new book, nothing particularly to stress or worry about for the rest of the day. They’re still fucked, but they’re way less fucked than they were yesterday, and that counts for a lot right now.

Sean has a lot of mixed feelings about The Hobbit, actually. He has vague memories of sitting in the living room curled up with Dad and Karen, Karen noticeably pregnant with Daniel and reading to the both of them. She’d said it was one of her favorites, about going on an adventure, and that now that the Lord of the Rings movies were so popular more people should read this story as well. Dad had never read it, but he’d continued reading it off and on to Sean after Daniel was born and Karen was spending all day sleeping. By the time they were finished Karen was gone for good, although they wouldn’t know that for sure for a couple months, and Sean had never looked at the book again. Though he guesses he kept his taste for fantasy.

Reading The Hobbit to Daniel now brings up a lot of feelings for Sean he doesn’t quite know what to make of, Bilbo’s resistance to the idea of an adventure resonating deeply in his chest, the knowledge from the very beginning that when he returned to his nice, comfortable hobbit-hole he was changed. Unexpected. Sean wonders when that will happen to him, if it’s happened already, if people back home would have conversations with him now expecting to know how he would respond and be shocked when he reacted differently. Not that he had a home to go back to now.

Still, despite his unease there’s something cozy about The Hobbit, the chatty way the words flow on the page, the sense of whimsy and humor. It’s funny to watch Bilbo bumble around all his unexpected guests because he’s too hung up on social niceties to just kick them out. It’s fun to familiarize himself with a story he hasn’t read in years and to share it with Daniel, who hangs off his every word as Sean does his best to make his reading dynamic and fun. He even pulls a few chuckles out of him.

Daniel’s cough keeps up for most of the day, but it doesn’t get too out of hand. He’s not quite feeling well enough to be restless, so it’s probably good that Sean brought something to entertain him with. They read together all afternoon and Daniel is still attentive but kind of drooping when Claire walks in.

“Lunchtime!” She announces. “You boys been reading all morning?”

“Bilbo just tricked a bunch of trolls into getting turned to stone!” Daniel announced excitedly.

“Oh! That’s an exciting one. Such a shame they never made a movie out of The Hobbit,” she says with a wink at Sean, who laughs incredulously. “At least they did a good job with The Lord of the Rings.”

“I love those movies!”

“Me too,” Claire says with a smile, reaching over to put her hand on Daniel’s head. “Hmmm, you don’t seem too warm. How are you feeling?”

“Okay.”

“Alright. Well, eat up, and we’ll give you some cough medicine after. And I wouldn’t get used to this kind of service young man,” she says, pointing at Daniel. “Once you’re feeling better, you eat at the table along with everyone else. Okay?”

“I will, Grandma,” Daniel says, accepting the plate of sandwiches with a smile. “Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome,” Claire says, ruffling Daniel’s hair. She puts the cough medicine on the side table and picks up the dirty plate from breakfast, heading out of the room.

“Alright little cub, let’s eat up.”

“Awww, I want to know what happens next!”

“Later,” Sean says with a smile, putting the book aside. “We’ve been reading all morning.”

“I know, but I like it when you read to me.”

“And I like reading to you,” Sean says, smiling, something soft and warm lodging itself in his chest. “Don’t worry, we’ll do more later.”

“Promise?”

The easiest promise in the world, and Sean is glad to give it. “Promise.”

Sean gives him the medicine before they eat, which makes Daniel pull a face, but he eats his share of the sandwiches with a lot more enthusiasm than the toast from the morning, and by the time they’re done he’s droopy and yawning.

“Alright enano, get up for a second; I’ll change the sheets and you can take a nap.”

“Ugh, why bother?” Daniel says, flopping over on the bed with a theatrical sigh.

“So Claire doesn’t break out into hives. C’mon dude.” Daniel grunts and doesn’t move, and Sean rolls his eyes. “This is really not gonna turn out the way you think it is.”

“Ssshhhhh. I’m trying to sleep.”

“Oh, well, in that case,” Sean says lightly, getting off the bed. “I’ll just fuck off then, huh?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Uh-huh.” Sean reaches over and grabs Daniel’s ankle, dragging him off the bed slowly enough that he can catch himself as he slides to the floor, protesting loudly. He feels kind of bad when Daniel starts having a coughing fit on the floor, but he knows from experience that any show of weakness or sympathy will be exploited ruthlessly, so he steps over him to strip the sheets from the bed before going to retrieve the clean ones from the wardrobe. By the time he’s done Daniel’s lungs are back under control and he’s looking at Sean with the wibbliest, most hurt expression he can summon.

“Yeah, nice try,” Sean snorts, picking him up and tossing him back on the bed. “There you go, naptime.”

“God you’re so annoying,” Daniel grumbles.

“Yeah, back atcha kid,” Sean says, grinning. He pulls the comforter up over him and kisses him on the top of the head. “Rest up, okay?”

“’Kay.”

Sean bundles their old clothes in with the sheets, picks up the empty plate from the side table and heads downstairs. Claire is sitting in her chair and Stephen is watching something on the television that Sean determinedly averts his gaze from, resolving to tune it out. He might have to figure out a way to address that when Daniel’s feeling better though; he doesn’t want him exposed to that shit under any circumstances.

“Hey Claire?” Sean asks. “I changed the sheets when we were done eating. Where’s your washing machine?”

“Oh! Look at you, aren’t you sweet. Come with me, I’ll show you how to work it.”

Sean considers telling her that he’s been capable of doing laundry for at least the past couple of years, but its probably easier to just let her bluster through it and explain each step of the process to him like he’s five.

“Oh honey, are you sure those are worth salvaging?” she says when Sean adds their grimy, travel worn clothes to the washer. Sean clenches his fist around Daniel’s shirt, one of his favorites that they got during an outing with dad. All of these, Dad got for them, the last things he would ever — 

“No! No, I uh… I think we should hang on to them. Just… just in case, I guess.”

“Are you sure? Sean, these jeans have holes all over them. And this hoodie—”

“Yes. Please.”

Claire sighs deeply. “Alright then. But those jeans should be patched at the very least. I’ll check my fabric bin for something suitable.”

“Thanks Claire. Do you think. Uh.” Sean rubs the back of his neck and ducks his head. “Do you think you could show me how to do that?”

“What, sew patches?” The washing machine hums to life and she turns to look at Sean. “Sweetheart, we can get you new clothes.”

“No, I know. And thanks. It just seems like, I dunno, a useful skill to have?” Sean braces himself for a crack about how sewing isn’t exactly a manly activity, that if he wants to learn something useful she could ask Stephen to teach him something, but her expression softens and she says no such thing.

“That sounds lovely Sean. Let me go get my kit; I’ll show you the basics while your clothes are being washed.”

“Great! Thank you.” If Sean can’t buy Daniel new clothes, he can at least keep him from wearing ones full of holes, right? He’ll take what he can get.

The rest of the afternoon while Daniel sleeps is spent on sewing lessons for Sean. When Daniel wakes up and comes downstairs Stephen switches the television to some inoffensive action flick without being asked, thank Christ, and the three of them watch while Claire makes dinner — Sean having offered his assistance and been rebuffed. The movie is paused so they can eat dinner properly in the dining room, and Sean insists on handling cleanup.

“No Diaz has ever let the cook wash the dishes, and we are not about to start now,” he announces.

“My word. Stephen, are you listening to this?”

They finish the first movie and watch another before Sean judges that he and Daniel are ready for bed. Daniel wakes himself up coughing once or twice during the night, but there’s no repeat of the night before and other than that and a brief crying jag — not uncommon, unfortunately — they spend the night peacefully.

When Sean wakes up the next morning Daniel is already awake, laying next to Sean and looking up at the toys he has floating over their heads, sending them darting and spinning in some complicated choreography that Sean can’t make heads or tails of, but that probably makes sense to Daniel.

“God, that’s so cool,” Sean says. Daniel turns to look at him and grins.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah dude. You’re like, actually magic. I spent years as a kid waiting for my Hogwarts letter, but you could actually get one!”

Daniel sits up a little. “Could I really, do you think?”

Sean laughs a little and shakes his head. “Nah, I’m pretty sure all that stuff is just pretend. Besides, Hogwarts is only for like, kids in England or whatever.” Sean has never told Daniel about the expanded canon, and Daniel will remain innocent and pure of those terrible crimes as long as Sean has anything to say about it.

“Ugh, lame,” Daniel says, flopping back.

“Yeah, tell me about it. Still, my own brother actually has superpowers. It’s pretty cool.”

Daniel just fucking beams at him. “Yeah, I’m totally badass.”

“Yeah okay totally badass. Just make sure you keep an ear out for Claire, okay? We can’t reveal your secret identity, and Claire seems like she has a habit of just barging into people’s rooms without asking.” Sean pokes Daniel in the side. “Maybe it’s a family trait.”

“Hey!” Daniel says, squirming. “Don’t make me drop them!”

“Uh-oh, if this is enough to make you lose focus, you might need some more training, young padawan,” Sean says with a grin, rolling over to launch a tickle assault on his little brother. “Maybe you need some practice working while distracted!”

“Noooo, no fair!” Daniel giggles, laughing and kicking as the toys tumble down to the bed. One of the hard plastic ones hit Sean in the head, which he probably deserves, but _he’s_ not about to be distracted from this very important tickle business. He doesn’t even hear the door open.

“Oh, it looks like we’re feeling better this morning,” Claire says from the doorway, folding her arms with a wry look on her face. “I thought I said no roughhousing.”

Sean and Daniel look at her, look at each other, and fall to pieces laughing. “Sorry Claire!”

“Sorry Grandma!”

“Oh, it’s alright, I’m just glad to see you two feeling better. And since you are, breakfast is down in the kitchen this morning, for both of you.”

“Okay!” they say together, and Claire smiles at them as she leaves.

Sean turns to Daniel. “Hungry?” he asked.

“Starving!”

“Then lets go eat.”

Sean smiles as Daniel scrambles out the bedroom door, thinking that maybe, for once, he made the right decision in coming here.

**Author's Note:**

> I am so obsessed with these boys i cannot wait to write more of them.


End file.
